


We Got Potential

by JayEz



Series: Husbands in Crime (Coldwave Week 2016) [7]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Former Hockey Player Len, Getting Together, Ice Skating, Kid Fic, M/M, Mick's Scars, Single Parents, Teacher Len, a blend of fluff and angst and smut, money problems, struggling dad Mick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayEz/pseuds/JayEz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of the regulars are already on the ice when Len sees them. </p>
<p>He winces – he’s too familiar with the type of fathers who screwed up and now have to take their kid <em>ice skating</em>, of all things. The disapproval is perfectly evident in the tall man’s scowl as he hands a pair of rental skates to a boy about Hallie’s age. </p>
<p>[Coldwave Week, day 7: Parents, <em>wherein former professional hockey player Len raises Lisa’s daughter and teaches ice skating classes</em>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Got Potential

**Author's Note:**

> Ice-skating AU, yay! I’ve skated maybe four times in my life, so don’t take the technical aspects of this too seriously. 
> 
> **Warnings** for referenced character death (Lisa) and discussions of past traumatic events, all non-sexual.

“Alright, that’s it, kids. Great practice, everyone!” Len calls out. “Enjoy the rest of your Friday and see you bright and early tomorrow.”

The kids cheer, overeager and still bursting with energy even after an hour and a half on the ice. Len figures he should relish it before they hit puberty and getting up early on the weekends stops being fun. They disperse quickly, aiming for the changing rooms, though one girl remains.

Watching Hallie glide across the ice with more grace than anyone would expect from a ten-year-old will always be bitter-sweet. Except for her darker skin tone, Len’s niece is the spitting image of Lisa, down to the prodigy-level of talent for skating. 

“Can I show Preeta my new turn?” Hallie asks, jostling Len from his thoughts. 

“Only once, and only if you’re very careful.”

He ruffles her hair before she can escape, an indignant cry following in her wake. Len’s chest thrums with pride as he watches Hallie glide towards her best friend who’s been coming to beginner practice for a few weeks now. 

Most of the regulars are already on the ice when Len sees them. 

He winces – he’s too familiar with the type of fathers who screwed up and now have to take their kid _ice skating_ , of all things. The disapproval is perfectly evident in the tall man’s scowl as he hands a pair of rental skates to a boy about Hallie’s age. 

The kid’s almost vibrating with enthusiasm, as far as Len can see. 

Alright, then. 

He flies across the ice to where the stranger is towering over every other parent keeping a watchful eye on their offspring and fuzzing when one of them falls (they’re on ice, for fuck’s sake, what do they expect?). Now that he’s closer, Len can see the father also has a prominent scar below his right cheekbone, which only adds to the intimidating glare he levels at the rink. 

Len comes to a stop near the open gap in the railing and waits until the boy looks up. 

“Need some help with that, you man?” 

“No, thank you,” the kid says. “I can do it.”

“Polite fella,” Len praises, his eyes on the father, whose only reply is a grunt. 

“He means thank you,” the boy cuts in with a grin that reveals a cute gap between his front teeth. His brown eyes are alert and sharp; he’d probably get along well with Hallie. 

“You wanna brave the ice on your own, too?” Len asks. When the boy nods, Len sinks into a crouch, precariously balanced on the blade of his skates. “Well, if you need some pointers later, I’m Leonard. I’m the coach.”

“Aiden. Nice to meet you!”

Len keeps his eyes on the kid until he managed a few meters without falling, his hands hovering near the handrail, before he seeks the father’s gaze again. 

The man has stopped scowling, fortunately, but now he’s squinting at Len. He’s not too sure if that’s an improvement. 

“They said the coach was a former pro.”

Wonderful. The guy’s not only attractive, he also has a deliciously low voice. Too bad his first statement was squandered on such a passive-aggressive remark. 

Len expertly executes a three-sixty on the spot to convey the ‘yes, that’s me’ which would’ve come out snappish and annoyed if he’d verbalized it. The stranger’s eyes (a warm brown, but with flecks of gold if Len’s not mistaken) flicker down to his knee and back to Len’s face, gauging his reaction. 

“Torn ligament,” Len confirms. “The National Team’s had to do without me ever since.”

Stranger hums. “Jus’ thought you’d be older.”

_That guy really knows how to hit ‘em where it hurts…_

Len tries to keep the bitterness from coloring his tone. “Well, I thought so, too.”

Thankfully, one of the newer kids comes up to him then and Len has an excuse to escape onto the ice, where he belongs. 

*

Over the course of the following hour, Len learns several things: for one, Aiden has a grace on the rink that would make any professional figure skater jealous. He takes to the ice like a duck to water, helped along by Hallie whom Len only needed to nudge a little in order to make her take the boy under her wing. 

For another, the stranger’s name is Mr. Rory – that tidbit courtesy of Aiden – and Mr. Rory has a Problem with the cold, capital P and all. 

“Dad used to be a firefighter,” Aiden babbles away at Hallie while Len’s in hearing distance. “A really good one! Still loves fire, but we went skating with school last month and he finally said okay and took me here!” 

It’s not eavesdropping – he’s their chaperone; his presence is necessary. 

“Why isn’t he anymore?” Hallie asks, echoing Len’s thoughts. 

At that, Aiden visibly clams up. “An accident,” is all he manages, before stumbling. 

Len catches him before he hits the ground. 

“You’re doing well, kid,” he stresses. “You think you’ll be coming back?”

“I really wanna!” Aiden glances past Len to where his still scowling father must be standing. “I mean, I’ve gotta ask my Dad, but…”

Hallie, because she also inherited Lisa’s devious streak, makes Len accompany Aiden back to his father at the end of beginner hour, where Len does his best to impress upon the guy that his son’s got a real knack for skating and it’d be a shame not to return if the kid’s having fun. 

Those broad shoulders tense even further. “We’ll see.”

“But Dad,” Aiden whines. 

“We’ll see,” Mr. Rory repeats, fixing his son with a meaningful look. 

_Oh._

Len quickly catalogues the pair’s appearance, and notes the fraying seams and washed out patches he’s only too familiar with from months after months of trying – and failing – to make ends meet. 

“We offer up to three free trial classes,” he says, placing a hand on Hallie’s shoulder to make sure she doesn’t call him out on his lie. 

He needn’t have worried. 

“Yes, and I’m always here, too! I can help you again,” she pitches in without hesitation. “I train right before, and Lenny’s coaching so he can’t drive me home but it’s great ‘cause I get to spend more time on the ice and –”

“Breathe, short stock.” 

Len doesn’t miss the way Mr. Rory’s eye twitched when Hallie called him ‘Lenny’ instead of Dad or Papa or another variation of that tune. 

Attractive and smart. Len would be in trouble, if the guy weren’t such an ass. 

*

“I bet he’s coming back today!”

“Hm, I’m not so sure he will, Hallie.”

“Will too!”

Len smirks at his niece via the rearview mirror. “Wanna bet on that?”

“Yes,” she insists. “If he’s there I get to show him my comic books.”

“You mean you’re gonna ask him if he wants to come over,” Len qualifies. “You can’t just kidnap him, kiddo.”

“He said he wanted to see them!”

“Alright. But only if you win the bet.”

Len chuckles to himself as he parks the car. Some drama at practice chases away all thoughts of Aiden and his father, which means he doesn’t keep an eye out and startles when Hallie collides with his legs. 

“He’s here!”

By the time Len joins his ward at the railing, she’s already drowning both Aiden and Mr. Rory in a deluge of excited babbling. 

“We can’t today,” Mr. Rory says. 

Hallie’s expression crumbles and Len feels that familiar pang that goes along with his child’s unhappiness. So the only motivation behind the next words out of his mouth is making Hallie feel better. Yes, that’s all. 

“How about Friday? We pick up pizza on the way back; you’re more than welcome to join us.”

Rory’s eyes grow distant for a split second. Len knows that look, know all about calculating how indulging your kid would cut into your budget. 

Needless to say, Lisa’s pleading eyes win out. And while Mr. Rory seems to be better at saying no to Aiden, there’s no weapon against the combined forces of two pleading ten-year-olds. 

*

Len jutted down their orders on Tuesday so the food will be ready as they swing by after practice. 

When Rory reaches for his wallet, Len raises a hand. 

“Let me. It’s the least I can do after my niece badgered you like she did.”

The pause stretches. Rory’s pride loses, and Len relaxes a bit. 

“I’m Mick,” the man says then. 

“Leonard.”

A smirk tugs at Mick’s lips. “Not Lenny?”

“Only when Hallie wants something.” 

It’s more complicated than that, of course, and Rory – Mick – definitely picks up on it, though he also doesn’t probe further. 

“You said she’s your niece.” 

“Not a fan of subtlety, are you?” Len sneers, immediately on the defense. 

Mick makes a noise at the back of his throat that’s probably meant as confirmation.

“My sister died when Hallie was three. Drunk driver. That’s also why there ain’t any beer at our apartment. I raised her after that. Got easier after I fucked up my knee, as much as I hate that I’m not able to play anymore.”

His little speech doesn’t get a response for a full minute. 

“’S only ever been Aiden ‘n me.”

Mick doesn’t volunteer anything else, but his tone makes it clear that whatever happened wasn’t pretty. 

Pizza boxes save them from the awkward silence that follows.

*

He catches Mick checking him out in his reflection in the kitchen window. That clears that up, then. 

Hallie and Aiden vanished to her room as soon as dinner was over, leaving behind an uncomfortable Mick and an intrigued Len. For the guy’s gruff exterior, he’s clearly a secret softie if the way he interacts with his son is anything to go by. 

“Aiden said you used to be a fireman,” he says as they sit down in the living room. 

It’s a modest apartment, mostly because Len wouldn’t know what to do with more or how to work cleaning more space into his schedule. Any additional cash goes right into Hallie’s college fund, so hiring someone’s out. 

“Aiden talks too much.”

“Well, and subtlety ain’t for you,” Len teases. “So what d’you do?”

“I’m a baker. Shit hours, but I’m always home after school. Sometimes I fix things.” Mick’s glare is challenging.

“Well, I used to work in an ice cream truck to support my sister and me.”

“Didn’t know that paid so well.”

“We sold more than ice cream,” Len admits with a smirk before he sobers. “I wasn’t the best role model.” 

He also did way more than sell shit, but it’s way too early in their acquaintance for that revelation. 

“Put food on the table, didn’t ya?”

“For Lisa, yeah.”

When Len meets Mick’s gaze again, the man has relaxed considerably. The moment stretches between them, and Len forces his expression to remain vulnerable. Usually he’d rather cut off a finger than talk about this, but if Rory thinks him to be an entitled, rich prick then there’s no chance he’ll let Aiden come around again and Len won’t do that to Hallie. She doesn’t make friends easily.

“Yeah,” Mick eventually echoes. 

Len clinks their glasses together, eyes never leaving Mick’s until the man looks down. He seems to be steeling himself to ask something, so Len lets the silence unfold. 

“Aiden’s got it in his head that he’s gonna keep skating. Not sure how I’m gonna make it work, though.”

“Well,” Len says at length. He’s been thinking about this, too. “I've got an eye for talent, and Aiden’s got it in spades. I’d like to talk to our manager, see if we can work something out. It’s how I got started, years ago.”

It takes some more explaining, of why Len’s word carries so much weight, of how he struck a similar deal for Barry Allen who’s now prepping for the Olympics, but Len knew Mick would agree the moment he suggested it because it’d make his son happy. 

And if Mick doesn’t have to resort to selling dope out of an ice cream truck to make that possible, that’s worth facing his boss any day. 

*

Hallie collapses onto the bench with an overly dramatic huff. “I can’t move, Lenny, you need to carry me!”

“Where would I carry you, short stock?”

“To where there’s foooooood.”

Len chuckles. “But then you’d miss Aiden, kiddo.”

And just like that, his niece is resurrected from the dead with no hint that she spent most day practicing, first with class, then one-on-one with Len. 

The other parent’s already waiting in what counts as the waiting room in administration, yet while Aiden seems to be bouncing off the walls, Mick’s obviously tired. 

“Burst pipe at two; barely managed to fix it up before my shift at the bakery,” is Mick’s gruff explanation when they leave their kids to play and enter the office. 

Working out the deal only takes a few minutes, mostly because Len spent most of his lunch break arguing with Karen, the owner. She isn’t easily convinced of anything, and while that’s great for business, it’s also a giant pain in the ass whenever Len wants something from her. 

The look on Aiden’s face when Mick hands over his membership card, however, makes up for the additional grey hairs Len’s going to get. 

“We should celebrate,” he suggests. 

“Waiverider! Lenny, we gotta go to Waiverider!”

He should’ve seen this one coming. 

At Mick’s quizzical look, Len explains, “It’s a themed restaurant, very kid friendly. Even has a spaceship to play in.” 

Unsurprisingly, Mick’s jaw tightens, yet before his eyes can glaze over again, Len announces they’re invited. It doesn’t make the guy relax, but at least he’s not arguing the point. Not that he would’ve gotten a word in edgewise with his son, who apparently loves all things sci-fi. Len approves. 

“They got anything that ain’t salad?” 

Len smirks at Mick, who’s studying the options on the boards above the counter. “You get to build your meals yourself, here.”

“We’ll even fry it, if you ask nicely,” the girl behind the counter cuts in with a grin. 

“Hi Shawna,” Len greets her. “I thought you’d be studying?”

“She’s taking a break!” Mark calls from down the line. 

“And paying your rent while I’m at it, jerk!” Shawna shoots back, but her face is fond. 

Len notices how Mick’s eyes dart to the engagement ring on her finger and understanding smoothes over the lines of his face. 

“You a regular, or somethin’?”

“It’s close to the rink and our apartment, and there’s a spaceship.”

“He means he just can’t say no to his precious little girl,” Shawna butts in again, then takes their orders. 

While Hallie knows her favorites by heart, Aiden’s never been here. Mick lifts him up so he can study the menu better, and seeing those large, calloused hands be so gentle with the kid draws Len’s attention like a bright neon light. 

Shawna’s eyes have a knowing glint to them when Len turns towards her.

“Not a word,” he hisses, glad that Mick already took the kids to find a table while Len pays. 

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“Keep it that way.”

“Sure thing, Captain Cold.”

“Stop it.”

“Either I keep my mouth shut about your giant boner for Daddy Of The Year over there, or I forget your hockey nickname, sweetie. Can’t have both.”

It’s more than a boner, Len discovers witching the span of the next two hours. 

Sure, Mick cuts an incredibly appealing figure even when he’s not lifting kids where they can't reach, his back muscles shifting under the straining fabric of his henley. But he’s also going out of his way to help kids that aren’t his own despite how fucking tired he’s got to be, and lets Hallie sit on his shoulders to help her ‘battle’ Aiden who’s playing a space pirate or something. 

Len can see the exhaustion etched into the lines of Mick’s body when he sits down next to him once Hallie bested the pirate and is busy interrogating him. 

“Thanks,” Mick murmurs. “For, you know.” 

Len just nods, biting his lip. If he doesn’t say anything now, he never will. 

“I didn’t invite you because Hallie wanted to. I did it ‘cause I’d like to see more of you, if our spawns end up friends or not.”

Mick’s brow furrows as he processes that. “You mean…”

“Like a date.” Len clears his throat. “Just see where it goes. I think we got potential, Mick.”

“Potential for what?”

Len lets his tone turn coy. “Wanna find out?”

The other man’s silent for a full six seconds. Len’s best guess is that he’s running through all the reasons it’s a bad idea, yet he can see the moment Mick’s mood shifts. Len’s been where he is, after all, and since they’re both single parents putting their kids first is never going to be an issue. 

Still, the small twitch of Mick’s lips as he says yes has Len’s pulse flutter. 

*

The sleepover a week later is all Hallie’s idea. Completely hers. 

“Oh please, Daddy, can we go?” Aiden cheers, and Mick gives Len a long look. 

“It’s fine by me,” he says after some feigned contemplation. “But no staying up till sunrise watching cartoons, understood?”

Arguing about that carries them from the rink back to Len’s apartment, where Mick takes one look at the way Len cuts onions and takes over cooking dinner. Taking charge is a damn good look on him…

The meal might’ve turned into some stifling, domestic affair, but Hallie won a bet on Thursday so she gets to eat in the living room with Aiden while watching an episode of the new Doctor Who, which Aiden hasn’t seen at all and in Hallie’s book that’s a cardinal sin she’s got to rectify immediately. 

Mick helps the kids build a pillow fort and switch to a laptop that fits in it while Len does the dishes, and just like that they’ve got the couch to themselves while their brats follow the TARDIS through time and space at full volume.

Len can practically feel the tension between them, fueled by small touches and lots of under-the-radar flirting whenever Mick brought Aiden to practice. 

“Not bad for a first date,” he says. 

It’s pretty lame, but Mick’s more than comfortable sitting in silence so if Len wants to get to know him better he'll have to work for it. 

“Second.”

“Hm?”

The corner of Mick’s lips twitches. “Waverider was the first.”

Len grins back. _Two can play this game._

“You brought muffins on Tuesday. You know – if we’re splitting hairs.”

“You really believe in that three dates crap?”

The question startles a laugh out of Len and he shakes his head. “Nah. But I meant what I said.” 

Mick leans back at that, his back fitting into the curve of the sofa. He puts one arm on the armrest, drapes the other over the back and looks up at Len with the most open expression he’s ever seen on him. 

The position also makes his V-neck ride up and expose a line of skin, just the hint of bare flesh. When Len looks up again, though, Mick has tensed up. 

“I got scars.”

Len swallows. “Have my fair share of those, too.”

“Ain’t pretty.”

“Why don’t I get to be the judge of that, huh?” Len keeps his tone light. He doesn’t have to fake the sincerity. 

Mick regards him for another moment, then sits up. “Not here.”

“I do have a perfectly nice bedroom,” Len says. “Even has a door.”

“Hallie know to knock?”

“Learned it the hard way,” Len quips, and tells Mick about the time his niece walked in on him watching porn. Mick’s laugh follows him into the room where Len’s barely locked the door before Mick turns him around and crowds him against the wood. 

Mick’s kisses are like his touches – hot and electrifying, with an edge of want that blinds Len for a moment. 

He lets his hands roam the contours of Mick’s body, prominent under the cotton of his clothes, as Mick’s fingers trace a path from his cheek down his throat. Len didn’t know kissing could feel like this, like all his nerve endings are on fire. Not even the cool air of the bedroom helps after pulling off his own shirt, because now Mick’s the one who’s touching him all over, rough hands skirting over scars and skin alike without hesitation. 

Mick’s nails scrape deliciously up and down his sides, traveling lower and lower each time and driving Len insane. 

“My turn,” Len decides, and pushes at Mick’s shoulders. 

The man goes reluctantly, but his hands grip the hem of his V-neck. Len schools his features and makes sure he doesn’t react when he drinks in the sight of Mick’s torso for the first time. 

The burns are extensive, scar tissue twisting around his right arm and side. Whatever accident caused them did some damage. He’s curious, though really doesn’t expect Mick to volunteer any details. He’s surprised when the man does, anyway. 

“Some punk left the stove on. We thought we got everyone out but then that woman starts screaming for her kid. Little boy, Aiden’s age back then. Wanted his favorite toy and stayed behind.”

“You ran back inside.”

“Yeah. Got him out. Piece o’ rubble broke his leg, trapped him. I pulled him out.”

“Never damage?” 

Mick shrugs. “Kid’s fine. Even got the toy out.”

It’s not what Len meant, but he’ll take no more details than Mick’s willing to give. 

Their next kiss is soft. Mick keeps twitching when Len reaches out to touch the marred patches of skin and Len realizes he’s got to be the first person the man let close enough to even try. 

Something clenches inside his chest at the thought. 

“Lie on your back,” he whispers against Mick’s lips. 

When he does, Len climbs on the bed and presses close, his chest against Mick’s. He explores with touch and tongue until he feels a hard length against his hip again and Len’s mouth waters at the size of it. 

Mick tenses briefly when Len moves to unbuckle his belt but relaxes half a minute later when Len exposes his erection to the room. Mick apparently likes to watch, because he props himself up on his elbows while Len give his cock a few experimental strokes.

Len arches an eyebrow at how smug Mick’s being. Sure, the guy’s huge, but Len’s good at this. 

So good, in fact, that he’s reduced Mick to a shuddering mess within minutes. The way the muscles in his stomach twitch is mesmerizing, but the hand buried in Len’s hair keeps his head down as he slides up and down the shaft and tongues the slit after every upstroke. The strength behind the mans grip fills Len’s mind with images of Mick holding him down, thrusting into him, and it has Len hum around Mick’s cock. 

“Close,” Mick grunts, then falls silent again except for low moans in the back of his throat whenever Len rubs the tip of his tongue against the underside of his glans. 

If they didn’t have to be quiet, Len would find out every sound Mick’s low voice is capable of, but right now he just wants to make the man come down his throat so hard he’ll see stars. 

Mick pulls at his hair and Len swallows him down to convey how very, very okay he is with Mick finding release. Len thinks he loses a few hairs when he does, but the spark of pain goes right to his own cock where it’s still straining against the buttons of his pants. 

Len makes quick work of them and sets a brutal pace. He’s so close to the edge with Mick splayed out on his sheets, chest heaving with every breath, that impressive cock softening against his abdomen, that Mick doesn’t have to do more than look at him to tip him over, eyes still dark with arousal.

“My come looks good on you,” Len says once he got his voice back. 

His reward is a laugh, and a real smile. “Betcha the other way ‘round would be damn fine, too.” 

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

Mick nods, then glances at the clock on the nightstand. Neither of them needs to say anything – it’s time to put the kids to bed. Len hands Mick some wipes from his drawer to clean up and they’re dressed and ready to pretend like they’ve been talking in the living room for the past two hours in under ninety seconds. 

A hand on his wrist stops Len when he makes to unlock the bedroom door. Mick pulls him back with enough force that Len collides with his chest, and judging from the glint in Mick’s eyes that was by design. 

The kiss is over way too quickly but leaves Len’s heart racing and his knees weak, and just for that Len makes Mick be the bad cop. 

“We’re in the middle of the episode!”

“Please, Dad, we just wanna finish that one, then we’ll sleep!”

Mick crosses his arms. “Nice try. That’s the opening credits right there.”

“But it’s Saturday!” Aiden argues after a stunned beat. 

“And a sleepover!” Hallie pouts. 

“Less complainin’, more teeth brushing.”

When the kids finally shuffle to the bathroom, accompanied by lots of grumbling and feet-dragging, Len’s almost done with putting sheets on the pullout sofa. 

“Three minutes – well done," he can't help but sneer.

“We’ll see how you do,” Mick grumbles but his expression morphs into something softer a split second later. “Next time.”

Lens heart definitely doesn't flutter.

Next time sounds wonderful.

**Author's Note:**

> ... and that's a wrap :) what a great week, folks! I'll definitely write the second part of [Combustible](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6274174/chapters/14376337), either before or after I complete [How Q Hacked Online Dating](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6098101/chapters/13978204), depending on what my Muse feels like doing first. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


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